


Glossophobia

by GhostCrumpet



Series: Fear and Loving [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Just... Smut, Public speaking fears, agent-intern Darcy Lewis, dirty dirty fucking, pre-relationship fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: You'd never guess it, but Steve Rogers hates speaking in front of an audience.





	Glossophobia

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse for cake.

No one would ever know just by looking at him that Captain America had anxiety over addressing large crowds. A few people, a handful, sure he could do. If it was the end of the world and he needed to come over the comms, that was one thing, he channeled the righteous fury of a man determined to save everything he knew and loved.

But a crowd? He was sweating up a fever backstage, a group of rich investor types with their arms dripping with gorgeous women waiting for him to come out and address them.

“Cap?” Speaking of gorgeous women. This one in particular had given him many a sleepless night as he palmed out another sinful handful of super-juice imagining her sucking him down in the back of the Quinjet. Darcy Lewis walked up to him, peering over the frame of her thick glasses.

She could’ve had surgery to correct her vision, he recalled Tony had offered it to her at least three times, but she refused. Said the glasses were  _ her _ shield. She’d snuck a private little smile at Steve when she’d said that, making his cock twitch in his suit.

His attraction to Darcy was unprofessional, unacceptable, and-

“Cap are you okay?” She interrupted his self-flagellation. She held up her clipboard. “We’re on in two. But…” She leaned in close, and he got a lungful of the spicy scent of her perfume. Fuck. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Sweet blithering Christ. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the crowd outside, or the fact he’d just sprung the most painful boner ever based on a woman’s  _ scent _ .

“I’m fine,” he grit out the words from around his teeth. She raised a skeptical eyebrow, indulged herself in an unladylike snort that should not have been attractive but somehow was, and pressed a finger to her ear comm.

“Roll the video. The sappy one, with the kids, and the crying mom. I’m off comms for ten minutes,” she said then yanked out her ear-piece and dumped it, along with her clipboard, on a black stage riser that he was standing next to. “C’mere,” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. For a moment, he resisted, then a pair of crimson lips whispered, “Steve, please.”

He went. She tugged him in the shadowy depths of backstage, and he followed without question. There was a soft click noise, and they were in near-darkness, just a sliver of light to highlight the planes of her face. Her clothes, all black, melted into the background.

“Miss Lewis,” he started, because he didn’t think he could just call her  _ Darcy _ when he’d groaned that name too many times in the privacy of his lonely bedroom.

“Shhh,” she said, and then got on her tip-toes and kissed him. He startled, nearly grabbed her, then melted when her sweet curves pressed into his front. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible. Dream girls like him didn’t go for science experiments like him- Her hands were tight in the front of his suit jacket. “We only have a few minutes.”

She disappeared, falling to her knees, and he stumbled back against a pile of fabric, sagging into it, when she unzipped his trousers.

“Darcy,” her name came out as an inelegant yelp, then spread into a low groan when her hot, eager fingers pulled his cock out of his briefs.

“We’re gonna talk about your choice of undies, Cap. It’s not good to cook the swimmers in tighty-whities.” Her mouth was on him before he had time to protest, or ask what she meant. Hot, wet heat surrounded his cock and he surged up, his hand going to the back of her head instinctively. His eyes closed, and any other thoughts or worries beside the woman going down on him like it was her job, fled.

Darcy made a soft, small noise, a little moan, and she pulled away for a moment to breathe. He let her, even as the air stuttered in and out of his chest.

“Fuck you’re hot,” she muttered and then licked up the side of his cock, almost  _ nuzzling _ him before sucking him back into her mouth. The caress of her tongue along the soft underside, the uncut curl of the head of his cock, had him fisting the fabric he was laying on because he didn’t want to do that to her hair.

“You can pull it,” she said as she mouthed along the base, having pulled away for another breather. “Pull my hair. I like it.”

Heat flashed across his vision, red-white-and-glorious, and he got his hand into her pinned up curls and yanked. She moaned, her breasts pressing in between his thighs as she licked him down. His hips jerked, rolling with each movement of her mouth until he swore he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

He was close… so close…

The image of Bucky’s face though, when he told his pal that he’d let a pretty girl go down and not returned the favor… Steve felt himself flush. He tugged on Darcy’s hair, for a different reason. She released his dick with a soft pop, and a quizzical noise.

“You can come in my mouth, I don’t mind. I’ll bet you taste like apple pie and bald eag- _ eep! _ ” He cut off her sassy mouth with a wet, parted-lip kiss, licking up her words until she was squirming in his arms and moaning.

He wanted to do this right. He didn’t have time for that though, and judging by the shift of her belly against his wet, exposed dick, she didn’t really give a crap about a proper love-making session.

“You want it right here?” he asked, skipping the prelims (Bucky was going to kill him later), and going right for the heart of her heat. His fingers dragged down her belly and slid into the thin leggings she was wearing that were a blessed mockery to pants. He found her wet, wanting, and so slick that his fingers slipped right through the warm folds of her pussy.

“I, I…” she stumbled over the words, blinking up at him, looking  _ shocked _ , and he smirked that he’d made Darcy Lewis, queen of overwrought speeches, silent.

“Oh you thought you were the only one who could get someone needy for it, huh, doll?” his voice pitched darker, and he was rewarded by a flood of red across her cheeks, and the thick, wet feeling of her slick dripping down into his palm.

“Time,” she finally gasped out.

“It’ll keep,” he growled, two fingers spearing into her heat, splitting her entrance open and making her hips jerk. A moan escaped her and she buried her face in the front of his suit jacket, ever careful not to press her eyes against the crisp white of his shirt where she’d get dark eyeliner smudges on it.

But he wanted her makeup all over his shirt. He wanted everyone to  _ know _ that he’d won the unwinnable, that he was-

“Steve,” she hissed, breaking through his self-congratulatory inner monologue of manhood, “that’s not my clit.”

He shifted his thumb over and she growled at him, finally,  _ finally _ , as he touched her right where she wanted it. Her eyes slid shut. He wanted to kiss her, but with their tight timeline and restrictive clothing that wasn’t happening. He pulled his fingers from her, ignoring the plaintive noise she made, and he spun her around. She went over onto the heap of fabric, without protest, and he yanked her leggings down her ass, to cuddle her thighs.

He slipped a hand between her legs, palming her pussy, cupping it and teasing her with flat, even pressure.

“You all right without protection?” he asked roughly into the shell of her ear, desperately hoping the answer was yes, but perfectly willing to jerk himself off into the handkerchief that was currently sticking out of his suit pocket. He was a scoundrel, but he wasn’t a complete dog.

“Fuck me please, or I will  _ murder _ you,” she snarled at him, although the threat was more adorable than anything with how her thighs squirmed around his hand. A smirk nearly split his face in two and he stroked one wet hand down his cock, pressed his hand in the middle of her back to force her down further so her pert ass would stick out, and spread his thumb and finger just inside her entrance.

She gave a small, mewling cry, tried to move back to meet him, but he wouldn’t let her. The head of his cock fit perfectly right between his spread digits, and he slid all the way, not stopping even when she tensed up under and around him. Her thighs shuddered as she took him in, all of him, a prodigious feat for any girl, let alone a sweet tiny armful of nothing that was Darcy. His eyes closed. He probably only had three minutes, and that was barely enough time to make her feel good, if she’d even get there.

One of his hands wrapped around her hip and snuck under her belly, the other kept her pinned to the soft mound of curtains or whatever the hell she was laying on, and he started fucking her with enthusiasm.

She muffled her cries on the inside of her arm as he gripped her tight and gave her everything he was made of. Pleasure wound its way up from his balls to his dick, up his spine, sending shivers along his spine and making him curse the fact he had to address stupid fucking investor fuckfaces and their fucking fuckfaced wives.

Later he’d feel guilty about those thoughts, but right then all he wanted was to lay his girl out and make her feel amazing….

He just didn’t… have… the time….

She was gasping, her back arching pliantly with each deep thrust, her pussy clamping on him and making coherent thought difficult.

She had to come. He’d  _ make _ her come. The hand on her belly pushed up, and Darcy jerked against him, her gasp coming unbidden. He felt her clamp down on him, felt the shuddering muscles quake around him as she came, and the damp wetness as she soaked the front of his perfectly pressed trousers.

Thank god for black wool, was all he could think, as he fucked her right through it until she was sobbing out each breath, limp under him. That did it for him, having exhausted her and her quick mouth to the point she couldn’t even sass him back. He growled, buried himself deep inside of her, and closed his eyes as his vision whited out and he came harder than he ever had in his life.

Her soft breaths were muffled, broken only by a slow moan when he pulled himself from her. Without hesitation, he pulled her leggings back up, and patted the crotch of them, feeling how soaked the fabric was already with their combined passions. She’d tempted the beast, well then, she could walk around with his spendings dripping out of her. A pinch of guilt nagged at him for being such a callous asshole, but when he looked at her he just felt the overwhelming desire to mark her as his.

Darcy’s little pink face looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted, and he bent down to kiss her softly, tenderly like she deserved.

“I’m sorry, doll, if I had a choice…”

“Go,” she rasped, shoving him in the middle of his chest with a shaking hand. “Just… get out there and raise some money.”

He smirked a little bit, and tilted his imaginary hat to her.

“Whatever the lady wants.”

“Dancy, monkey, dance,” she whispered as he left the little storage closet. He paused for a moment and then continued on with a shake of his head.

He’d get her for that little jab, later. When no one was around to hear her beg him to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da!


End file.
